Now and Then
by clarinetti
Summary: Team Rocket succeeded in taking over Silph. Co, and now Giovanni has both Kanto and Johto in the palm of his hand as his master plan comes to action. When the dust settles and the heroes are gone, do we fall to our knees and surrender? Or will anyone dare to take a stand? Adventure, drama, and tragedy ensues. Rated T for themes and language. On Hiatus until Christmas.
1. Prologue

So before we get the ball rolling, I just want to say that if anyone wants to send in any OC's to be added to the story, that would be awesome! The OC form is on the bottom of the page, along with a few guidelines.

Note: I do not own Pokemon inc., Nintendo, Game Freak, etc etc.

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Prologue

The Days that have Past

Once upon a time, I lived in a land, known as Kanto. A place that did not seem much like any other place, except that there were these amazing creatures that lived there, called Pokemon. Humans, we were fascinated by the phenomenon known as Pokemon. Some dedicated their lives to unravelling the secrets behind them, others came to view Pokemon as friends or companions. There were others who wanted to capture the Pokemon for themselves, and when they did, wanted to prove that their Pokemon were the strongest of them all. These Pokemon were trained, by people referred to as 'Trainers' or 'Coordinators', to be put into contests and show off their moves, or to do battle against one another to the death. Soon, battling and contests became popular events, and before we knew it, the lives of all began to revolve around the world of Pokemon. Hospital Centers were put up to heal a trainers injured Pokemon, and markets established to buy things to strengthen the abilities of said pokemon. Tournaments were put into place all around the world, and in some places, a supreme Pokemon League was established in order to prove who were the region's strongest trainers, known as the Elite Four.

Before I go on, I will admit to you that I too, was once a Pokemon Trainer. Like all the foolish children my age, I had begged my parents to let me start my journey, to forge a path, to prove to the world that I could be great. We all did. Once I had convinced my parents to let me leave, I travelled all the way to Pallet Town, with the other soon to be trainers, and then pleaded that Professor Oak, who was the head authority of Pokemon research at the time, to give me a pokemon. However, it was me, out of all my peers, who woke up at the crack of dawn, and then proceeded and knocked persistently on the door to the lab, in order to awaken the Professor (Who apparently fell asleep in his Lab) and explain to him my quest. However, I was not alone- two other children, boys from my hometown, had awoken just as early in order to receive their pokemon from the Professor. One had tried to sneak into the lab, but failed, and the other was waiting to ambush the professor once he awoke. I knew them vaguely at the time, but not enough to call them friends. So along with the two of them, I earned one of the few pokemon that he had that day. After much consideration I chose a Bulbasaur, the one who called himself Red picked a Charmander, and the last one, Blue, chose the Squirtle. After thanking the Professor, the three of us made a promise to one another; that we would meet again, all of us being Champions. We shook hands as equals, parted our separate ways, and so began my quest.

I travelled the land, battling trainers wherever I met them, captured all the pokemon that I could, and trained with them vigourously. Throughout my journies I again encountered my would-be rivals, Red and Blue. Sometimes I would hear of how one had challenged a gym leader, or how they had had a match against one another. While the two of them always battled whenever they met, rarely did I battle with either of them. For a while this befuddled me, until I came to the conclusion that they did not consider me to be a proper rival, just another trainer, and that drove me to work even harder. We, my Pokemon and I, became incredibly close, and it was that bond that made us so strong. I conquered all the Gym Leaders, passed every challenge put in front of me, and when I finally was able to battle with the famous Kanto Elite Four, I defeated them. I had achieved what so many had dreamed of- I was a Champion.

It was after I had accomplished my goal, that my passion for battles began to wane. My Pokemon and I had gotten so close, that it pained me too greatly when they suffered in a match, to the point where I was unwilling to battle the challenging trainers who so wished to earn my title. To see my Pokemon, my friends, get injured, and to see my opponents Pokemon get injured, all for the sake of a foolish title such as Champion? The notion quickly started to disgust me. Eventually I abandoned my title, and left the Pokemon League. I refused to battle any trainer who encountered me, and tried to find a way to live a more peaceful life. Often I met up with Red and Blue during their travels, both of them still bent on their paths to become the greatest trainers ever, yet did not pressure me to take up battling again, for which they had my gratitude. I encouraged them as best I could, and eventually they too became Champions- Red had conquered the Johto League, and Blue took over my title as the Kanto Champion. One day, we met in Vermillion City, the three of us- it had been the first time we were all together since that day we received our Pokemon. We shook hands with each other, and congratulated one another, happy for each others victories. Despite the fact that we had rarely seen each other on our journies, we had all grown close, and I considered them to be like family to me. That day we parted ways once again- Red off to take on new challenges in the faraway Sevii Isles, Blue to defend his title, and me to find peace.

Yet how could I find any peace when the world was consumed by ruthless Pokemon Battles? And everywhere I looked, that was what was happening. People battled in tournaments, in the streets of the cities, and the battles were televised in such a way that it was unavoidable. Even my parents, both who had once followed the Pokemon dream, could not understand my aversion to Pokemon battles. When I tried to explain it to them, or to anyone else I had encountered, they were unwilling to listen to my reasons. Once, I had tried to lobby that the battles be banned, that things change. But my words fell on deaf ears- no one cared to hear my voice when there were so many other shouting for another match to continue. And so since society would not heed my pleading, I left society. I sent word to Professor Oak that he should release all of my Pokemon that I had left in his care, unless they chose to stay with him. When he replied and confirmed that my wishes had been carried out, I released my beloved teammates, and told them that if they wished to leave, they could do so. It broke my heart to even consider that one of them would not be with me- Quirky, Michievous Electrabuzz, the ever calm Moltres, Gloom and doom Mr. Mime, the impish, playful Haunter, Jolly (yet sometimes moody) Lapras, and even my cynical, clever Venusaur, my oldest friend. Yet they chose to stay with me, one reason or another, and so our new journey began.

We trudged through the wilderness, over mountains, along rivers, and through the woods, farther away from the world I had always known. It was here we made a new life, on a small field of land by the glacial streams. Together, we built a house from the trees, big enough for all of us. Venusaur and Mr. Mime helped in clearing a plot of land so that we could garden, and Lapras ensured that there was enough rain for the crops to grow. Moltres often would explore the land with Electrabuzz and Haunter (Haunter wouldn't go anywhere without Electrabuzz or Mr. Mime around), and at times I accompanied them. The few times I visited civilsation were to buy supplies, pipes for a water system in the house, a sink, a small fridge, as well as staples such as flour, butter, and seasonings. I also bought tools for the garden, and sometimes I would indulge myself and buy a book. But otherwise, I was rather content to stay within the forests, and the cabin where we lived. There, I could read, cook, study things in nature that you couldn't see anywhere else- I often sent any new findings to Professor Oak, one of my few remaining contacts. And I wrote letters, countless letters, to Red and Blue, asking them how they were, the progress on their adventures, so that when I came to town, I could give it to the local Delibird, which was in charge of the mail. And whenever I received a letter, Delibird would waddle all the way to my cabin and deliver it in person.

We were happy, in this tranquil world of ours.

But as time passed, I noted that when I came to town, things began to change. I would hear hushed snippets of conversation, something about an underground crime syndicate that had arisen from Celadon City. One that had begun using pokemon as tools to commit their crimes. At first, I paid little heed to the rumours that spiralled around, yet the news of this group continued to increase. Like an infectious tumour, this organisation spread out of Celadon into all the major cities, such as Cerulean, Vermillion, and Saffron, and even into smaller towns such as Lavender and Pewter. With the increase in crime, and the Police seeming to make no headway in stopping them, the people in town soon were worrying about it constantly, complaining that something should be done. I understood their plight, but it was only when the activities of the criminals began to seep into the letters of my close friends, that I started to feel concern. Professor Oak sent me letter after letter, furious at the plight of Pokemon being stolen from their own trainers, to be used as weapons, by this nefarious group known as 'Team Rocket'. Blue also mailed me, keeping me updated on what was happening, warning me of their crimes, and that the Elite Four would have to get involved in order to put an end to their schemes. And as for Red, well, after discovering their presence in Johto, he wrote to me that he would not rest until he found the leader and knocked him down once and for all.

Then the most devastating news of all came one day shortly after Red's letter, while I was in town for the day, to grab some rice and soap. The doors to all the houses were locked, most shops saying that they were closed, and only a few people wandering about. I tried to speak to some of them, but they walked right past me, as if I was a phantom. I didn't understand, until I looked at the day old newspapers lying at an abandoned stand. **President of Silph. Co Assassinated: Team Rocket takes over Saffron City** was the front headline. At the sight of those bold letters, I froze up, and then hastily read the rest of the article. It happened a few days ago, out of the blue, Team Rocket ambushed Saffron City, disabling the Police forces and closing the barriers and gates to the outside world. Any citizens caught on the streets were kidnapped or killed, and once the coast was clear, they went for the head office. In one night, they trapped all the employees, stormed the building, with rumours that the lead of the crime group himself killed Mr. Tajiri, the owner and founder of Silph. Co, as well as his secretary/ wife, Mrs. Tajiri.

Now to someone like me, who lived off the grid, this originally would not have been a problem to me. However, I had once lived in that world, and I knew, as everyone knew, that Silph. Co did not only sell products for pokemon trainers (Potions, Pokeballs, Stat enhancements, etc.)- Silph. Co was Kanto's largest, and most successful, import/ export business. It was through the Silph Company that the whole continent received exports from the neighbouring regions, sold our products to areas such as Hoenn and Johto, and that, on an intercontinental level, merchandise was transported from one city to the next. It was a monopoly, a vast and powerful empire, and essentially controlled the commerce of all of Kanto. Control the commerce, and you control the economy, and as a result, the whole region. Needless to say, this was dire. Before the press was taken over, all that you would hear about for the following weeks was how the city police were trying to keep Team Rocket from further expansion, how the neighbouring regions were unable to provide assistance- Johto was also under invasion from Team Rocket, and its sister organisations, Team Aqua and Magma, were starting a turf war in Hoenn to take advantage of the global state of panic. There were distant lands, such as Sinnoh, Orre, and Unova, but we had no means to contact them, and so our plight continued without their awareness.

There were those who fought valiantly against the Team Rocket takeover, as I heard from the underground radio station which was set up shortly after the media fell under the criminal's control. Pokemon trainers, gym leaders, citizens, all tried to defend themselves and their homes from the intrusion. There were victories, such as when Lt. Surge of Vermillion led an uprising and eliminated all prescence of Team Rocket from the port city. But instead of assisting the surrouding towns, the tunnels and roadways connected to the city were shut down, and Vermillion became a military fort, a safe haven, that refused to further fight back. So while Vermillion was safe, the rest of Kanto was under siege. Celadon City had little hope of rebelling after Erika, their Gym Leader, was kidnapped, and just as quickly, Lavendar Town was also under control. Fuschia City supposedly put up a fight, and at this point, the fighting there has reached a stalemate. Cinnabar Town was left alone for a long time, but when Team Rocket came to attack, they found a well fortified battalion, consisting of rebel trainers and locals, all lead by the genius Blaine himself. It has been said that the criminals have given up that battle for the time being, and that Blaine is attempting to regroup in order to conquer the Seafoam Islands, and then aid Fuschia City in their fight. What has happened to Sabrina, the previous Gym Leader of Saffron, is unknown- when Team Rocket invaded, they found the gym empty, although they instead had quite a time dealing with the Karate Masters from the Dojo.

Quickly Cerulean and Pewter City were captured, and seemingly Viridian feel into the Rockets grasp without any struggle. Which left Pallet Town perfect for the taking- no gym leaders or strong enough trainers to battle against the looming forces. Yet the few, novice trainers that were there made a stand, waiting with their brand new pokemon for a fight, although many of them had not had a proper pokemon battle before. The morning Team Rocket came to Pallet Town, there was a massacre, a slaughtering of the lambs. No one was spared, according to the news reports. And what of the fate of Professor Oak, and his Pokemon Lab? No one was sure. And it was then that I packed my bags, planned a course, and left for my old home. I walked along old trails in the woods, avoiding the towns, and the chaos that was ensuing there, as long as possible. My time in the woods came of more use to me at that time than all my years living there, my movements having grown silent from treading the forest floors, and undetected, a skill that was necessary back then for my survival- I could not always rely on my pokemon to come rescue me, after all.

When I arrived there, I found a prison where Pallet Town, and the neighbouring towns once were. Tall, concrete walls had been erected around the town, with spiked wires all around the place and guards at every entrance. The woods that once surrounded the town had been burnt down, in room to make buildings perhaps, judging by the construction equipment. I managed to sneak past the security, thanks to Mr. Mime levitating us above the wall- the flames from Moltres's wings would have been too noticable for a stealthy entrance. The interior of the prison was a wreck- the houses and buildings were blocked shut, and the streets were being patrolled constantly. We were quiet enough, and watched carefully for camera's and watchmen. I walked right passed my house, and almost contemplated checking on my parents, but as I stared at the dark, empty looking house, as I remembered the arguments I had had with my parents about their indifference to my internal conflict, the feeling that it would do no good to return washed over me, and I kept on going.

By the time I arrived at the lab, it was the earliest hour in the morning, the world still dark save for the few twinkling stars and the smoky city lights. But it was more than enough to see the damage that had been done there- the burnt, decrepit ruins of where the building once was standing, the sign grimy with dirt and ashes. It appears as though no one has bothered to clean it up, or else Team Rocket is leaving it here to instill fear into the populace. However, while no one has cleaned it up, I could easily note that many people had come to visit. Near the tarnished entranceway, an endless supply of flowers had been left there, from elaborate bouquets, to withering daisies that might have been picked in the fields nearby. And not only flowers- all manner of gifts were left at this spot, like offerings at a temple. Money, small, wrapped boxes, Berries, plates of food, beverages, dolls, and clothes were only the beginning. And erected at the front of this giant offering, was a chair, with a picture of Professor Oak on it. In this picture he is holding a pokeball in one hand, and an oddish in the crook of his arm. Though his attention is on the Oddish, the camera captured his profile so that we could see his smiling face.

It is then that I notice all the messages around the picture, on the presents, in fact, everywhere around the site. 'Thank You, Professor!', 'You will be missed', 'The greatest pokemon researcher ever.', and 'Rest in Peace, Professor Oak.' were the more common phrases. Some were written with almost perfect calligraphy writing with multicoloured ink on card paper, others with chicken scratch pencil and looseleaf. A couple of the phrases were spray painted on the signs, and even etched into the few remaining trees. I had nothing with me but a pen, but it was better than nothing. So after carefully avoiding all the gifts left behind, I lean down to the chair where the photo lies, and dig the tip into the wood. It takes a few moments for the ink to start flowing, but once it gets going, it only takes me a minute to scribble down my final words to the Professor. I thought about talking about what an innovator he was, how he was dedicated to his research, how he cared so much for all the people and pokemon around him. But the Professor had seen and heard all of that before, and I needed to get something off my chest to him.

When I had sufficiently vandalised the chair, I scoured my pockets for something to leave behind, and pulled out the Pokedex. Not the National Pokedex that he had only given me a year or two ago, but the first one he ever gave to me. It had dents in it, a minute crack in the glass screen, but all in all, it was in decent condition. I wipe it with my jacket sleeve, trying to bring some shine to it, and then lay it down, next to the leg of his chair. I promised him that I would complete the National Pokedex, and so I shall keep that. But I feel that he would understand my meaning when I left him my original Pokedex. I took one last look at the place where my adventure started, where I received my first pokemon, where I made a promise which turned three complete strangers into the closest of friends. And with that, I left the memorial, and was out of the remains of Pallet Town before the sun could rise.

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Why did I not act sooner? Why is it that I waited, as if indifferent to the consequences of what was occuring around me? It is a question I still ask myself to this day. I was once a trainer, a formidable one at that. I could have fought like the others did, those who knew next to nothing but were brave enough to fight. Red and Blue...they never would have just stand aside and watch this happen. They fought, they tried noblely to stop the madness, and would never give up. And as a result... they are gone. Captured, killed, or hiding, I do not know. And maybe, had I been there to help them, instead of cowering in my seclusive domain like a hermit, they would still be here.

I will not let their sacrifice be in vain. I will find where they both are, somehow. Even if I have to search every nook and cranny, every tree and bush or cave in Kanto, I shall find them. And I will avenge Professor Oak, The President, and all that these criminals have harmed. I will find their leader, and do to him the same courtesy as he had done to Mr. Tajiri. I will make them suffer, for the pain they have caused, and then, I shall crush their Tyranny if it is the last thing I do. Even if I have to do it by myself, I will do it. No matter what happens...

I will not fail.

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Yea, so that is the prologue. Just a note, I am writing this from Leaf's perspective mostly, but as more characters get involved in the storyline, I shall likely incorporate their perspectives as well.

Please Read and Review, Thanks!

Oh, and the OC form is right here!

Guidelines

You can create up to two character profiles to submit as OCs.

No Mary or Gary Sues... well, at least not too many of them please.

If you are a Pokemon Trainer, no more than six Pokemon please. They can have more than four moves though, as long as those moves are naturally learned by said pokemon.

Can we avoid having Trainers with super duper rare pokemon (Ex. Mewtwo, Mew, Kyogre, Groudon, Ho-oh, Lugia, Deoxys, Celebi, etc.)? The Rare Bird and Dog pokemon are permitted though.

Make your characters creative! Good guys, bad guys, the folks in between the two, anything goes. Just have fun with it.

OC Form

Name (First, Last):

Age (8-30):

Gender:

Hometown:

Appearence (4-6 sentences):

Personality (4-8 sentences):

History (4-8 sentences):

Occupation (Pokemon Trainer, Citizen, Pokemon Breeder, Criminal, Coordinator, Grocery Store Clerk, etc etc.):

If you have Pokemon (Up to 6); Names, Nicknames, Personality (Optional), Moves (Optional), etc.

Affiliation (Team Rocket, The Rebels, Bystander, Undecided, No clue? etc.):

Other information:

Thanks!

clarinetti


	2. Important: A PreChapter Update!

Hello Again, Wonderful People of the World!

Just to give a brief update in regards to this story, things shall be starting up shortly, but wanted to say a few things.

First off, Thank you to everyone who has so far submitted an OC entry! There are some awesome characters here, and I appreciate that you guys have submitted them, so Kudos to you. :)

Just a note on the OC side of things, if anyone still wants to submit an OC, even once the story starts up, please go right ahead, and I shall likely find a way to incorporate them into the plot. Especially if they want to create some villains *Cough* we need villains/ undecideds *Cough Cough*... Ah, excuse me. Anyways, all character submissions are welcome. The OC form is at the bottom of the Prologue.

List of characters thus far shall be added to this update shortly, so stay tuned!

Finally, does anyone have any ideas for scenes to be incorporated into the story? Excellent runaway car chase scene? Prisoners break out of Rocket HQ? An interrogation scene gone amiss? Whatever it is, I want to hear about it! I can't guarantee that it'll all be a part of Chapter 1, but all ideas shall be taken into consideration, and I'll be giving credit to whomever sent out the concept.

Anyways, that's all folks! Until the release of the first Chapter,

clarinetti

ps-Don't Forget To Be Awesome!


	3. Chapter 1 Another Day

Good Evening Everyone,

So before we get the ball rolling on this story, I just want to say a few things (Bummer- I know).

First off, thanks to everyone who has sent in an OC for this story! The main OC's are posted below, but please note that all submitted OC's shall be incorporated throughout the story as supporting characters. Furthermore, if anyone wants to send in some OC forms while the story is in progress, please do so, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I appreciate the time and consideration everyone has put into these characters, as they have been extremely helpful in letting me plot out this story.

Speaking of plots, kudos to everyone who has thus far thrown me out some ideas for the story! If you have a suggestion or idea, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do with it.

Finally, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorite-ed this story. As writers, we are always trying to create something for other people to enjoy, and to know that there are those who are enjoying the story (Even though it's only a prologue thus far) is a good feeling. So, considering that it is you, the readers, who are the most important part of this whole process, I raise my glass to you.

Now, on with the show! (Almost...)

Our Lovely Main Characters

The Rebels:

Leaf Greene- clarinetti

Jack Lazarus- Sharkness

Lara Carlin- KCNederland

Rein Yukimura- Silverdragon98

Charlie Ryder- Shadowboy8456

Tyson and Ruby Sinclair- ilovedogs12

The Undecided:

Luke Jackson- MasterFreezerman

Terra White- Titanic X

Magneta Eastridge- Shadowsplosion

The Villains:

Harold Grayson- Titanic X

Darren Blaze- InazumaNina

Eva Whitley- red. truth

Fate Cross- Dark-Key0

Note: I do not own Pokemon, or Gamefreak, Nintendo, majority of the characters, etc etc. I own my Oc's, and the plot.

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Chapter 1-Another Day

It was finally morning, but it didn't feel like morning yet. Although he had vaguely seen the light of the sun peeking out from his hideout, the fog which had rolled in the previous day was still too thick to make out any details. The rocks, trees, and cliffs of the shoreline he knew fairly well had been shrouded by the dense wall of moisture, making it almost impossible to see his own hand, let alone his surroundings. It would have been a perfect opportunity to sneak undetected into Mauve Town, one of the smaller towns that Team Rocket had conquered, and the closest one to Lavender Town. From there, he would be able to hopefully destabilize their influence over the town, and if Mauve Town was free, it would mean that the seafaring people would be able to fish again. It would also mean that boats could be sent outside of Kanto waters, to the more distant regions. Messages could be sent out, so that the plight of Johto and Kanto would be known, and aid could be supplied. All providing that he could enter Mauve town, and efficiently deal with the forces there.

It was morning, and yet he was stuck here, missing out on the chance to sneak to Mauve town. At the time, he had thought that he would be able to see through the fog on his own. Yet he had miscalculated the time it would take for it to naturally, and as such, he was essentially trapped. What had in the afternoon appeared to be a safe haven from being detected, was now a trick to get out of. For Jack Lazarus was hiding in an alcove near the cliffs, and for all he knew, he could take one step and go tumbling down to the boardwalk by the sea, a hundred meters beneath him. No, in order to take advantage of the fog, he would have to use his pokemon, a risk necessary to take. While one may notice the prescence of a Pokemon foreign to the region, he could only hope that the only ones to notice this mild disturbance would be the Rattata and Oddish wandering about. Pushing back his blonde (beginning to go silver) hair from his face, Jacks sighs at the weariness that seemed to never go away for him. Oh well, no reason waiting around, he thinks to himself, and from his backpack pulls out a bright white and red pokeball.

"Sabre..." Jack whispers, hesistantly aiming the pokeball away from him in fear of throwing it off the cliff. A bright beam of light briefly cuts through the fog, allowing him to momentarily catch the silhouette of his pokemon, his large, metallic suit of armour gleaming through the fog, before it once again became a shadow in the mist. It calls out to him, and in hushed tones he explained to his pokemon what to do. Jack couldn't tell if Sabre nodded to him or not, but he received his response when Sabre called out "Scciiii-zor!", and a gust of air was released, clearing away the fog around them. He could now clearly see his Scizor in the morning light, bright red suit shining, and yellow eyes staring at him intensely from his 'helmet' of sorts. Sabre's arms were posed as in preparation for another Air Slash, but Jack calls out to him to cease. The pokemon instantly let his claws fall to the sides, nodding his head slightly in understanding.

Jack could now clearly see that he had had little to worry about- the edge of the cliff was nowhere in sight, and once he quietly crept from his temporary shelter, he could clearly view the small, murky purple buildings of Mauve town through the trees. From this distance, you would never have guessed that it was a town under hostage- the tiny specks of people were moving about the streets, entering and existing buildings, and doing rather commonplace activities. No, it was not until you looked to the town borders, and you caught sight of the large, imposing concrete wall, and the swarms of dots guarding it, that you would even consider the place to be a cage of sorts. That is what Mauve town had become after all- a prison to the stragglers, or escapees, wandering along the boardwalk in hopes to sneak in, or out, of Lavender Town. It also had become the post of one of his former friends,a friend from back when he was a thug, a talented one, but still a thug. Or, so he had heard from Mace, another old friend whom he had encountered previously while creeping around Vermillion.

Now, it was simply the matter of navigating around the cliffs in such a way as to arrive at the walls of Mauve quickly, well, at least before the fog rolled away. Or course, he could call on Columbia to fly him over to the town in less than an hour. But with all her strength and speed, she was reckless, and hasty, both traits not ideal in the process of a sleathy infiltration. Furthermore, the beating of her wings might make the fog around us disappear faster than we want it to, and then we would be clear targets for the grunts in the watch towers. No, Jack would take the longer, more challenging road, in hopes that his perserverance and patience be rewarded. "C'mon, Scizor." he says quietly to his pokemon, and so he begins the trudge down the cliffs, Sabre silently following him.

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Magneta Eastridge could be a reasonable person. It wasn't like she was one to rashly run into things, without any consideration on the consequences. True, she is not one to concern herself much with other people, in fact, she could care less what other people did with their lives, but it wasn't like she was a completely heartless bitch. She just knew that she was a better coordinator/ trainer than everyone else, and was honest enough to state the facts. But I digress- Magneta was, usually a reasonable person.

However, the little kindness that she at time portrayed was quashed the moment that the Rocket Grunt commented on her hair.

He had already been irritating enough to get into her book of people she disliked, the way he just waltzed up to her and rudely started to ask questions. He was still rambling in fact, going on about how this was a 'prohibited zone' for pedestrians and how it would dangerous for a young women like me to go off on my own in a town like this. While I enjoy the compliment, I am easily half a foot taller than this excuse for a member of Team Rocket, who looks like he still should be in middle school. His greasy seaweed hair pokes out from his black cap, and beneath his black jumpsuit with the Team Rocket insignia on it (A bright red 'R'; as if that was original) his skin appears pale and sickly. The kid is tiny, a toothpick with a green marshmallow whose top has been burnt sticking out of it. And his voice! A reedy, high pitched tone, as though the boy had not yet hit puberty (Which wouldn't surprise me). "I'm sorry, Miss, but this is a prohibited area of Mauve town. It is past the Authorization Level I gates, and citizens are not permitted to pass the Level I zones without proper documentation, blah de blah de blah." I am serious, he sound just like that- eventually his voice melts away into a wiry little drone, a swarm of poorly tuned radio stations all blaring at once.

"Who has pink hair anyways? It looks like old cotton candy." he continues, his words briefly becoming coherent before returning to the drone. I briefly contemplate remarking to that statement, but I sense that my sarcasm would be lost on a little tyke such as him who dares mock me. As if he was one to talk about hair- his hair looks disgusting, even beneath that hat. I mean, it's a pile of moss drenched in bacon grease, and then left to dry on top of his head. At least she took care of her hair, although she would eventually need to cut it- the last time she did it, the results had been choppier than usual (That's what you get for cutting your hair without a mirror). But at least she, unlike some people, actually washed her hair before sticking it in her black hat so that only a few bubblegum pink strands could stick out.

"Get out of my way, boy. Unless you want me to toss your seaweed head into the ocean, I suggest that you shut your trap- save the precious few brain cells you still have so you can run errands for your boss." I snap at him, and he stops his lecture mid-rack, looking at me with bewilderment. Cabbage coloured eyes stare back at me blankly, before a tiny flame bursts inside of them. "How dare you disrespect me, a member of Team Rocket! We call the shots around here, and unless you take back that statement, I'm going to make you regret you ever said it!" the boy/ grunt cries indignantly, pointing a grubby finger at me as if to make a point. Sheesh, I thought he was bad enough, but he's a whiner too? Great... "I'm quaking with fear... what are you going to do- poke me to death with that pointer finger? Keep whining in that falsetto voice? Or, I beg you, please don't make me touch your slimy seaweed head." I deadpan, and he again stares blankly, and then after a moment of silence reacts. "You've left me no choice: it's my responsibility to keep you disrespectful citizens in your place!" he squeals, taking a few steps back while pulling out a pokeball from his belt. I step back, right hand lightly touching the closest pokeball to it attached to the belt. This is going to be such a waste of time, but at least I'll have an excuse afterwards to throw him in the ocean.

"I choose you, Rattata!" the grunt shouts, tossing the pokeball out into the street, which has become our makeshift battlefield, and out pops a small, purple rat pokemon, and I groan. Is this really my greatest challenge? Why do I even bother? I think to myself, and then throw out my pokeball. After a flash of light, an owl-like creature swoops into the air, rises up majestically, and then dives back down until it is hovering a few feet above the ground. "Hah, is that all you got- a little birdy?! Let's show them-Rattata, quick attack!" he cries, and the little pokemon shakes its head furiously before charging towards Nox. Pathetic, really. "Evade it, Nox, and then use Hypnosis!" Magneta calls, and Nox gives a quick hoot before following orders, easily dodging the small rat pokemon's attack, and then releasing golden pulses towards the Rattata, eyes glowing red. The agitated creature at first looks confused as it is surrounded by the rings of light, and then its eyes start to droop, until it falls asleep. "What?!" the boy cries, but I've already given Nox the go ahead, and with its eyes glowing still, he swoops towards the sleeping Rattata, who shudders sometimes as the life seems to be sucked right out of it. No matter how the trainer begs the pokemon to wake up, it does not, and within moments, Rattata's eyes turn into spiralling black x's, and the fainted pokemon returns to its pokeball. One down.

"Ahh, no, Rattata! Hmmph...you won't get away with this- let's show them, Ekans!" a reedy voice calls out, and out of another pokeball comes a slightly larger creature, a lavender coloured snake which hisses at Nox, glaring at us with its buttery- yellow eyes. I shake my head in disbelief. To think that a trainer of my calibre is wasting my time on a snotty kid like this, who thought he was so tough because he joined the bad guys. Ugh... what have I stooped down to?! "Nox, Psybeam." I tell him plainly, and he nods in understanding before his eyes glow once again, and from his beak a pink yellow beam spirals out, hitting the snake pokemon before the trainer can even make a command. "Hey, that's cheating! It was my turn first!" the grunt squeals, and I roll my eyes. "You should have given it a command then, instead of just standing there like a moron." I mutter back to him as his fainted pokemon returns to the ball, leaving me with one more opponent. "Make this quick kid- I might just fall asleep." I call out him, faking a yawn to emphasize my point, which causes him to fume. By now, a few of the braver citizens are watching me from their windows, a few even standing in their doors as the kid is getting pummeled. Not like I needed an audience, but whatever. After a moment of the boys blathering in surprise, his irritating voice pierces through the morning air.

"Don't think you've won this yet, I still have one more pokemon! C'mon, Magikarp!"

You have got to be kidding me.

For anyone who does not know this, Magikarp is, from the standpoint of a trainer, the weakest, lamest, most despicable excuse for a pokemon in the whole bloody universe. If there is a body of water, and you have an Old fishing rod, there is no way for you not to encounter a Magikarp. The size ranges, but I would estimate that they are all generally the size of a sleeping bag. Their bodies are orange, with weak dorsal and tail fins, big, empty eyes lacking any intelligence, and a mouth that looks like it's trying to kiss anything that comes its way. The Magikarp has only one move, and it is 'Splash', whereby it flops around and splash's its foe with a litte bit of water. It is so weak though that it does no damage at all. Also, for a swimming pokemon, it is surprisingly slow in water, to the point where a sleeping snorlax can outswim a Magikarp, anyday. The only thing that the Magikarp has going for it, is that it is so embarressingly weak and harmless, that you don't know whether to let it keep flopping madly on land, pretending as if it had a chance to survive, or to take pity, quickly bring it out of its misery, and knock it out already.

However, while I would not mind letting the useless little bugger keep flipping about like an idiot, I have better things to attend to. Like walking out of here, getting something to eat, sleep, and finding my sister. In fact, getting myself kidnapped by a proper rocket grunt would be more productive than this. At least then I could beat the grunt to a pulp and interrogate him/ her without any qualms about being too harsh. But this kid...it feels like a waste of energy to be harsh to him. "Magikarp, do something!" he cries, just as I give Noctowl the final command, and he swoops in after his target, who is feebly lying on the ground, as though breathing itself was a difficulty to it. And just like that, Noctowl slams into the besodden, bright orange fish, sending it flying off down the street, and before it even can properly land, it is brought back to its safe, comfy pokeball by a beam of red light.

The grunt stares at me, and then at his pokeball, and then back at me, shock and anger on his face. "You, you won't get away with this!" he says indignantly, and I smile at him, the expression lacking all warmth to it. "I won't? No, I think I am already, great and powerful Team Rocket Grunt. Next time you want to pick a fight, make sure you can actually put up a decent battle, smart boy. Because your tiny jabs and taunts are going to get you nothing but trouble. Like right now." I hiss, and before he knows it, I am tugging him by the ear down the street, and refuse to let him go. He cries like a piglet, but it is only after I shove him into the cold sea water that I release him. "Clean up, and go home to your mother." I tell him point blank, and with that turn my back and walk away. I can feel the eyes of the village on me, staring with various degrees of intensity, fear, relief, confusion, and surprise. I ignore it the best I can, calling for Noctowl to come back into his pokeball. If the rest of the security around here is as scanty as that demonstration implied, it seems like I'll be en route to Lavender Town before lunchtime. Magneta Eastridge, you are good.

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It didn't make sense to her- why was this happening? She had been so careful in her gathering of information. Quietly she would enter the labs whenever she was to deliver a message to the scientists, and then would creep into the archives, shift through a few folders non-chalently, and then make copies of the upcoming plots and fax them off to her friend and partner in Cinnabar. She would then delete the leftover junk files, eliminate any video footage of her prscence, and quietly creep out. She had done all the right things so that they would trust her, having always followed her orders, getting the job done. She proved her worth during those reconnaissance missions, when she mysteriously left the guards feeling weak- an ability that left many of her co-workers intimidated of her. But that's how she wanted it to be. That way no one could snoop into her business, and she wouldn't be caught in this situation. Yet here she was, in this cell underneath the Lavender town Team Rocket Base, awaiting whatever her captors would decide to do next to her.

Pushing her long, silky black eyes from her face and behind her red headband, she gazed tiredly at the door, the only door in and out of her cell. Normally she was the energetic one, the one always pumped for a new crime or scheme. Even if it was all just a facade, she could still pretend to be excited, couldn't she? But whether or not she wanted to pretend now, she simply did not have the strength to do it. All there was for her was panic, and concern. Concern as to whether her friend had received the latest bunch of data she had sent, fear of what would happen to her, and most importantly, fear to where her pokemon were. Kilala, Sakura, Flare, Aris, Spark, and her Knight! What had happened to them all, especially my wonderful Knight in shining armour? True, he was overprotective of her, but he had always hidden her when she needed to disappear with his illusions. What would she do without him to help her- what could she do without any of them?!

CLICK goes the lock on the door, and from comes a girl, not much older than myself. She dresses nearly all in black: a long sleeved, high collared shirt with dark crimson lining, which is held together by sparkling diamond buttons, along with black leggings beneath a ruffled black skirt, black buckled boots, and a swaying black cape. On her hands there are fingerless gloves,black with a flash of yellow- a symbol of a bird sown onto the fabric, as though it had been struck by lightning. Her nearly all black attire contrasts with her flawless pale skin, like ebony and snow, while her long dark brown hair falls in curly ringlets down to her waist. However, it is her eyes that truly catch my attention. The left eye appears to burn with a flame of ruby red irises, yet her right eyes almost appears to glow as it watches me through golden orbs. It is not the colour of them that frightens me though, rather the lack of emotion lying within them, as though I was staring into the eyes of a dead person.

Although my throat feels thick like cotton from fear, I swallow it and ask the girl "Well, what do you want? Here to take me to another interrogation?" I ask her, trying to sound bored by the proceedings. The girls watches me for a moment, and then lightly shakes her head no. "We know everything that we need. I am her to dispose of you." And like a reaper of sorrow and death she approaches me, and all attempts to remain calm crumble to dust. "Please! I have done nothing wrong, let me out! Take me to an admin, or someone- I know that they shall all vouc-"

A high pitched scream could be heard from throughout the basement floor, one which echoed along the dark, narrow corridors. It was the last sound that Kisara Light made before her young, childlike character was crushed.

Later, the girl with red and yellow eyes entered another room, this one being slightly more aethestically pleasing than the former. In here there were plain wooden chairs, four in total, a large, rectangular table, and a faded, thin rug on the cold floor. The concrete walls had been eggshell white, and the primary source of light came from a fluorescent light bulb hanging above her. Her guest was already inside, dressed in a red t-shirt, black vest, dark shorts, and combat boots. The guest sat lazily in one of the chairs, feet stretched out against the chair parallel to hers. She chose to stand, ignoring the indication for her to take a seat. "So what do you want?" a rugged voice asks, a coy grin on his face. "Team Rocket wishes to make use of your services, as you have previously offered." she replies automatically, as though her voice was coming through a speaker. "Ahh, which service are desired? I am multi-talented after all." "To assist in the capture of various targets." "What, you guys can't deal with a few kiddy trainers yourselves?" "The targets we would be assigning you are of a much higher calibre." From her jacket, the girl pulls out a plain manila piece of paper, and slides it across the table for him to view. He looks dubiously at the fine typed words, and then back to her.

"Four targets? Hmph, I can see why you'd be requesting for my assistance- this is a specialty of mine." "So I have heard. Then you shall take it on?" "Depends on how much your boss is willing to offer me. If you know of my skill, you know that I am very picky about my clients." he slurs, giving her an alluring half smile. Her cold, frozen gaze cut through his fake charm, and instead stated "We are willing to pay your price, whatever that may be." "10 000 000$. Half of it is given as an immeadiate deposit, and your head'll wire the other half once I've collected your targets." "Very well. We shall be in contact, then." "Indeed, I will enjoy getting into contact with you." he replies seductively, which the girl again ignores. "And your contact information is?" "Ray Ellis- ask the right people, and they'll send out the message. And you, pretty?" "That is not your concern." she replies flatly, and he pauses, mouth dropping in mock surprise. "Hmm, ouch. I imagine that's why your nicknamed the Black Rose, eh, Mrs. Cross?" "I have other business to attend to. You shall be contacted should be require your aid." the girl known as the Black Rose tells Ray curtly, and with that exits the room, skirt ruffling as she turns to leave. Yet she was just able to make out the mercenary's parting words. "Heh, and I believe that I shall be having business with you soon enough, eh, Fate? Until we meet again."

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Excellent, so the first actual Chapter is complete! I have done what I can with things, and we shall see what happens next, I suppose. The other characters shall be introduced in turn, and it is likely in the next chapter that they shall all begin to convene on each other, but its ambiguous at the moment. Credit goes to yellowgardian for Kisara Light, and Southern Jaguar 94 for Ray Ellis. Oh, and sorry for any Magikarp-bashing; I don't hate it, Magneta Eastridge does.

Let me know what you guys think. I love to hear what is good, and what I may be able to do to improve my writing.

Until next time!

clarinetti


	4. Chapter 2 Strange Encounters

Good Day Splendid Readers,

I present to you, finally, Chapter II! Enjoy

Note: I own my OC's, and the plot, thats it. No, I don't own Pokemon, Nintendo, Gamefreak, many of the characters, etc etc.

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Chapter 2- A Strange Encounter

"Ruuubbbbyy... why are we sneaking about at this ungodly hour? I want to sleep." Tyson grumbles to his slightly younger sister who was leading the way, her long brown hair swishing about as she walked. Normally he was the upbeat one, the lively one who liked to take charge, but now, at this early time in the morning? "This is when the Vermillion patrols switch, and our chance to get out of here before it's too late." Ruby explained to her slightly older brother, grimacing in annoyance. If he could just shut his mouth for a few minutes, this would be so much easier, and she wouldn't have to be panicking about some slow guards hearing them. I love Tyson to death, but sometimes, oh yes, sometimes he can be an agitating loudmouth.

"Why you even wanted to leave Vermillion in the first place is my question. I mean, that guy, the gym leader, Lt. Surge, he said he was going to give us a position to work with the rebels. He even said he could arrange a boat to Hoenn-" "Surge is lying, Tyson! You heard the people in the city- he is a tyrant, a military dictator. All he does is get people to join his 'army' and then keep the city under lockdown. Surge hasn't even sent help to the neighbouring towns, and with the forces that he has, Lavender and Celadon could be freed easily!" I shout whisper to him, stopping dead in my tracks to face my brother. I am already an inch shorter than him, but if I stand on my tiptoes I can stare into his tired, half closed grey eyes. He looks as though he is in a trance, still waking up, although I shaked him into consciousness over an hour ago. I shouldn't snap at him, I really shouldn't. If I was the tired, confused, moody one at the moment, he would try to cheer me up, instead of getting unecessarily angry at me. So I take a deep breath, and keep walking, listening carefully to hear his trudging footsteps going through the brush.

After 10 minutes of walking, we stop, Tyson literally walking right into me. I mostly ignore it though, my eyes stuck on the scene before me, slightly shaking my head in frustration. My brother dozily mutters "Wha?" before his gaze shifts to what my fiery red eyes can already see, even though it is still slightly dark and the sun has not cut through the mist that wafts in from the nearby ocean, ghostly fingers that despite everything, can only go through us. The trees and brush we were walking through is reduced to sparse shrubbery, the occasional large rock jutting from the earth. I imagine that if we were to turn around, we would perhaps be able to view the vague walls surrounding Vermillion, and the hordes of soldiers standing guard. But my attention is currently on what is before me. The ground here is acrid and sandy, and a little ways ahead of us, I can see the long stretch of boardwalk that surrounds the eastern coastline, and could potentially take us to Lavender Town. However, there is one distinct, particulier unfortunate obstacle in our way. If it was evening, or the fog was any thicker, I would assume it to be a large boulder. But judging by the perfect smoothness of the object, the small, obtuse blobs protruding from the mass, and the loud, heavy sound coming from the object, there is only one conclusion to be made.

There is a Snorlax blocking our path.

To anyone in the world who could be unaware of the nature of this being, Snorlax is infamous for being the sleepiest pokemon on the face of the earth. They will plop down anytime they want, no matter where it is, and just go snoozing for hours upon hours on end. They are like hibernating bears that never, ever want to wake up. When we were in Hoenn, there was a huge news report on how a town was in madness for a week because a Snorlax had somehow gotten there fro Kanto, and had decided to take a nap by city hall- the snoring kept the locals awak for a week. And nothing could be done to awaken the massive organism- loudhorns, stereos, beeping cars, shouting, even when the people tried to beat the pokemon into consciousness, it would not stir. It was not until an associate of Professor Birch came and played a Pokeflute melody that the creature awoke from its slumber and proceeded to dozily waddle its way out of town. And that was a stroke of luck. Normally, from what I have heard, when anyone has ever managed to wake up a Snorlax from its sleep, the creature gets into such a fit of rage that it is considered an indestructible juggernaut. Trees, boulders, people, even small towns have been completely oblierated due to the power and grumpy rage of a Snorlax. In conclusion, when one sees a Snorlax, unless you are a particularly talented trainer with a lot of guts, it is considered wise to just let it sleep.

"That's a pokemon, isn't it?" Tyson asks, rubbing his eyes once, twice in order to wake up and better see the creature. I sigh, and then say. "Yep, judging by its loud snoring, its got to be a wild, sleeping Snorlax. Why on earth it would choose to sleep here is beyond me, but if its sleeping, there's no way we will be budging that thing. Great, so we'll have to walk along the shore, and then the cliffs in order to get to Lavender. I mean, we could swim to the boardwalk and go from there, but the waters here are teeming with Tentacool's and Tentacruel's, not to mention the rare Gyrados." I thinks aloud to myself, pondering on how to get around. I mean, if I wanted to, I could just summon Staraptor to fly me over to Lavender Town now, but Tyson doesn't have any flying pokemon, and I don't want to get separated from him, not again.

"Chill, Ruby. I have a plan." Tyson says, pulling me from my thought process. I pause, waiting for him to explain it to me. After a few minutes of telling me his idea, I shake my head. "Are you crazy?! Do you know how risky that could be? Of course you do, so why are you even considering it? And what will you do with it? Can't just keep it around." "Let me handle that. Just trust me on this one, ok?" he mutters reassuringly, lightly patting my shoulder, and steps forwards, Pokeball in hand. I open my mouth to object, to make a suggestion for an easier solution, but I hold my tongue, know that Tyson won't listen to me now- he's as determined as he is stubborn after all. "Go, Lux!" he shouts, and from a blast of white light, his Luxray appears, looking sinisterly at us, although he always looks like that. "Ok, Luxray, here's the plan! I want you to tackle that Snorlax with everything you've got, and then use Crunch! Ok?" Tyson asks, and though the pokemon rolls its eyes at his trainer's enthusiasm, nods his head. "Alright then, lets go!" Tyson shouts, and with that Luxray charges the sleeping pokemon, aiming for its side. When Lux hits the pokemon full on, sparks flare up from its fur, and discharge onto the Snorlax while Lux sinks his teeth into the blubberly creatures flesh. A deep, rumbling noise is heard, and in anticipation of a counter-attack, Lux darts back, prepared for the worst. I turn my eyes to my brother, filled with determination and excitement in his eyes, a smile on his face despite the risk in this plan. He watches as the sleeping being shifts a bit, as though sitirring from slumber, before rolling onto its back and releasing an alarmingly loud snore.

"What? It's still asleep?! You've got to be kidding me!" Tyson exclaims, the surprise in his voice shadowed by the excited gleam in his eye, the one he gets whenever there is a challenge for him to face. "OK, lets really do this! Lux, give it a charge, and then use Thunder Fang!" He shouts, and the pokemon does so, glowing as the tension in the air augments and sparks of electricity begin dancing around the Luxray. When the light around Lux becomes too bright, I can barely hear Tyson shout "Now!" and I can hear the pokemon crying out "Lux Lux Luxray!" and then it disappears in a flash. After being properly blinded, I turn and look around, to see Lux biting into the resting pokemon, sending electric charges into it in the process. As though its heart was being restarted, the Snorlax jolts up and down, its fat jiggling about in the process, until one of its pudgy arms slams the earth. Tyson orders Lux to get back, and he does, waiting anxiously. After a moment, the snoring noise stops, and the massive creature begins to move, rolling up into a standing position, and eventually we can see its face, which vaguely resembles that of a cats, with the ears and all. Its gaping mouth opens, revealing a pair of sharp incisors, and it releases a great yawn, stretching its arms and legs about before turning to look at us.

The closed slits for eyes slightly open, revealing tiny, black pupils staring dozily back at us. For minutes it stares at us like this, no expression on its face while it takes in the surrounding area. Then its hand covers his mouth, as though to surpress another yawn, and suddenly drops back on the ground, the earth shaking from the goliath's weight. The snoring resumes, possibly louder than before, and at that sound, Tyson looks utterly defeated. "Hey, c'mon, wake up buddy! Go find some other comfy spot to sleep, huh?! I mean, that can't be the greatest place to sleep, right? So move it!" he shouts, and proceeds to try to budge the pokemon, without the creature moving a millimeter, besides its own breathing. I sigh dejectively, feeling that it shall be a long walk to Lavender. "Let's go Tyson- once the shoreline gets close enough to the boardwalk, you can get Lux to stun all the Tentacool, and we'll swim." I tell him, and begin marching back towards the rocky coast. After a few minutes, he follows me, ultimately taking the lead from me. "I'll walk in front- don't want you to step into a trap or something." He says simply, and I nod, as though as I believed him. I try to be patient as he grumbles and mumbles about that infernal Snorlax, whom we can still hear snoring long after it has vanished from sight. "Stupid Snorlax, it's lazy, that's what it is! I challenge it, have the audacity to awaken it from its slumber, and that's what I get?! Why, this isn't the end of this; if I ever again encounter that lazy little couch potato, I'll have Char turn it into a roast, and then I'll teac-"

"Stop complaining, brother, you're getting on my nerves."

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I hate morning drunks, I really do. I mean, after when they come in and buy their first drink of the day to mix in with their morning coffee and muffin, I smile to myself and add another 10$ dollars to the bill. I don't even mind if they come in for another drink an hour later, once I make sure to get a 20$ tip from them after chatting them up about the weather or something like that. But the ones that just sit there, drinking bottle after bottle of beer, shouting like a fool and scaring away customers? Those are the ones I dislike. I don't need drunks like that, especially when they're wearing the Team Rocket uniforms. I get those ones alot, and they are always such a pain to deal with. They tip well, even when they aren't all that drunk, but they like to go flaunting their power about. Think that they can get away with anything, and that they own the god-damn place, going about fighting, spilling drinks, graffitting the bathroom stalls, denting the walls, and leaving glass stains on my bar counter. True, it isn't exactly the nicest bar in town, but when I got this bar from my parents, it was in swell condition, and I won't have those idiots go messing up my joint so that I've got to pay to get the wood redone or something.

In fact, it's usually the folks from Team Rocket who are the worst of the bunch- they always want to have a party, or worse, to stage pokemon fights in the middle of the bar. There's a bunch of old boxer rings downstairs where they can have battles, and I'm always telling them that. "You wanna fight? Go downstairs and do it." Is what I say. A few of the sober ones will listen to me, if it's a good day. But there are always the stupid ones who just go right ahead and make a scene out of it, meaning I've gotta kick them out. It really is such a pain. And when they get hung over the next day, I see them lying on the tables or the bathroom floor, covered in sweat and vomit, reeking of booze. Do you know how long it takes to clean up that scum?

"Hate 'em." I mutter to myself as I clean another wine glass. It's morning now, and suprisingly there are few guests here at the moment. Then again, it's not that late in the morning- by seven or eight o'clock they'll come strolling in; the whole rocket gang, and the rare townsfolk who has the time and money to sit and get eggs and bacon served to them. At the present time, there are a pair of grunts in the corner, talking and laughing while they eat the plates of pancakes on the table, each holding a half empty bottle of dark ale. There's also an old man sitting next to me, sipping on a tonic and gin, pale blue eyes wide and speckled from cataracts. He murmurs things under his breath sometimes- he's a regular here- things that sound rather funny if you ask me-though it's more because of his intonation than the actual words. I write down the stranger phrases for my own amusement sometimes. "Goldeen needs log." "They're hiding in the smoke and mirrors, with the ghosts of Marowak." "Can I have some of your delicious nuts?" are just a few examples of the mans quizzical sayings. There's also a stranger sitting by my bar, a middle aged woman by the looks of it. She wears a navy blue, bulky winter coat, molted grey sweatpants, and holey boots. Her long brown hair has been left unkept, and hangs in front of her dirty face like a mane. She is silent, save for her raspy breath, and the squeaking sound she makes when her hand drags the shot glass of Baileys Whiskey off the table and towards her peach pink lips.

TING TING goes the doorbell, and in walks another client, one whom I have very rarely seen here in my bar during all my time in Lavender Town. She waltzes in, all grace and poise with her black tights, black and red skirt, long black corset shirt, black gloves, looking like a bringer of death. Her long, silky black hair shifts about as she walks, a red ribbon keeping it out of her eyes, one a pot of molten gold, the other a pool of blood. She takes the seat directly in front of me, and stares at me head-on. "I have a message to give you, Mr. Westland." she whispers in a quiet tone, almost like a sigh. "James would be fine, Mrs. Cross." I murmur in response, but if she hears me, she does not acknowledge this, but continues to speak "I believe you are a friend and patron to a mutual client, Mr. Ellis?" "What about i-" "Ba'tender! Nother botte of, of thiis schtuff." the middle aged woman shouts from her seat, interrupting our quiet discussion. I indicate for the young admin to take a seat while I call the woman to say I'm going to get her drink. Going behind the bar to the kitchen area, I open the fridge, and pull out another bottle of the Bailey's Whiskey. Popping the lid silently, I pour half of the creamy liquor into a bottle, and seal back into the fridge. Quickly and cleanly, I fill the half full bottle with milk, reseal the lid, and then give it a good shake.

Walking back out to the bar table, I give the drunk lady her bottle, and she slurs out a words of thanks before opening the bottle and filling the shot glass up to the brim. Cross gives me a look, but says nothing, and I proceed to sit beside her while pulling out another cup from the sink to dry. "What do you want with the likes of Ellis? He isn't exactly the type to interact with." I whisper softly as the dish towel wipes the specks off the foggy glass, and she cocks her head strangely. "Tell him that it is done, and that he is to get to work now. Also, tell him that he is to inform us of any progress he makes, or any lack thereof. That is all." Mrs. Cross replies cooly, and goes to shake my hand. I proceed to put down the cup and towel, and stretch out my left hand. When we shake hands, a wad of neatly folding bills pass from her cold hand into my warm, wet one. "I shall be sure to let him know, at the soonest possible time then." I tell her truthfully, and she curtly nods her head. I offer her to stay for a drink and talk, but like always, she quickly and icily refuses the offer, complains of the smell of the bar, and leaves the bar, the door ringing TING TING as she departs.

I turn my back to the bar, silently counting the bills as they pass my fingers, the last one giving me a paper cut. Damn, I think to myself while in a stealthy manner slipping the bills into my pocket. I dunk my bloody finger into the full sink for a few moments, watching the blood tinge the soapy water a translucent vague crimson. It doesn't help that at that particuliar moment, the middle aged woman decides to puke out her guts onto the floor with a painful hacking noise. I shout at her to clean up the mess and get out of the bar, and she curses back in a hoarse tone once she's down vomiting. The woman cackles as a witch would, wipes the excess bile off her face, and gives me a sickly grin. I stare through the tangle of hair, trying to find the no doubt bloodshot eyes being hidden, but there is nothing but a broken pair of rose-coloured glasses and the white teeth within her red mouth. From her pocket she pulls out a wad of cash, screeches for me to keep the change, and then stands up from her chair. With one last look at me, the middle aged lady turns around and wanders aimlessly out to the door. Bottle still in hand, I can vaguely hear low words being spoken beneath the hair and clothing. "Heh, me getting thrown outtas bar! Whattya think o' that, Redtie? I know all bah things, but its innnteresting, eh? Now I jus' need something to damper up and right then I'll fix it all, i'll make it like it never happened. Lapras! Lapras, give me a shot! It's not lie that, ye stupid Smoochum, so f$% off, aiyeee..."

Sighing again, I pull my finger from the water, which has lost its tint of red and returned to a scumy grey, and shake the drips off the finger. "Crazy bitch." I mutter so that none of the remaining patrons can hear me. I look up at the clock and curse again- the morning rush will be coming in the next hour, and I gotta clean the crap up before I can start up the grill- Millie is late for work again. And someone's got to start prepping for the breakfast crowd- they tip poor if they've got to wait longer than 15-20 minutes for their food. This is why I hate morning drunks, I think to myself as I walk towards the mop and bucket. They pay well, but they just leave such a revolting mess.

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The Team Rocket Hideout in Lavender is to say the least, a decrepit building. Then again, it is this setting which is more fitting for an organisation as corrupt as this one. Hidden perfectly in the open, desperately in need of repairs that never seem to get done, despite how I have urged for these updates to take place, and of course well fortified. The hideout consists of multiple levels, each with various purposes, from sleeping quarters to training rooms, prison cells and interrogation chambers. And the labs, of course. I personally detest the labs- waste of time and resources. Not the actual experiments mind you- no, the sutdies there are considerably valuable. But the scientists running it are a whole different story. Lazy little nerds who seem to think they are the bosses around here- especially the crop of them here in Lavender. Hmph, well, I'll teach them soon enough that they have to work to earn their keep, and that if they don't do their assignments quickly or efficiently, they become a liability. Ones that I am more than willing to cut. It's nothing personal- never is. It's just business. And the grunts, well, they aren't all that much better. Barely know how to fight in a pokemon battle, let alone hand to hand combat. A few of them are proficient at firearms, but all lack in the reconnaissance and informative stealth. What irks me the most about them is how they think they are so high and mighty because they decided to put on a shirt, talk to the right guy, and start skipping school. If they had half of the dedication that we had when we were preparing to take Saffron, I wouldn't have to be here.

When I came to this town from my initial posting on Six Island, I was told that things had slackened up, that it would take a little work to get this facility, and these recruits, up to speed. A position that was to take a month at the maximum. But after being here for a few months, I can already feel that this is a long term project that Giovanni will have to hand to someone else. It's not that I can't do it myself, but my efforts would be better spent in dealing with Cinnabar."That's where I ought to be." I grumble to no one in particular, sitting quietly at my desk and finishing a report. Why am I here, writing a report on the statistics of this facilities performance when I should be appropriating a mission to deal with the Cinnabar crisis? Because as the head admin here, I am supposed to deal with this paperwork. A task which is menial and tedious for one of my abilities. I would hand it off to some grunt to do, but honestly, I'm sure they'd botch the whole thing up, and get me in trouble. Something which I would be able to get out of, but I would much rather prefer to avoid dealing with.

They, we, have taken over Kanto, and essentially now have Johto in the palm of our hands. And as a result, Giovanni is planning to expand his range to Hoenn, a decision which surprises me, but not all that much. He dreams that one day Team Rocket shall have complete control over all the regions as a powerful monopoly. I share is amibition, but not his haste. Before we expand our sphere of influence, it would be wise to first guarantee that there are no pockets of opposition in the areas we have already claimed. Vermillion is not a concern at the present time- Lt. Surge is stubborn, and won't go on the offensive unless he has allies to help him, so he'll just wait. Fuschia is a battle that shall soon be concluded- they are determined, but I feel nothing good shall come for the rebels. If we can only quelch the nut of a base that Cinnabar has become, any substantial risk to the organisation's position here will be expulsed. Of course, they are those who are concerned that the old trainers, the great trainers from before our uprising, shall appear as if by magic. I put little thought in such tales, considering that most have either been placed under our custody, or annhilated. And while the few may try to fight, it takes more than one trainer, no matter their calibre or prowess, to fight against an armada. I would place Johto as a second priority- their forces are more organised, and they have supposedly contacted Unova, and possibly Sinnoh, for help. But until they have eliminated our presence in their own domain, they shall not help Kanto. Once Kanto is completely mastered, we could regroup our forces and attack Johto in full force, and then expand into Hoenn.

Furthermore, the new Grunts are scared to go to Hoenn- they have never dealt with a turf war, certainly not of this magnitude, and things between Magma and Aqua are nasty enough, according to our sources. We don't know the area half as well as Johto and Kanto, and we would have to considerably alternate our tactics. Because unlike Johto and Kanto, Hoenn is one giant island, and I imagine that many of their defenses shall be naval, a field in which we are presently lacking. To come in now, it would most certainly be foolish. I told Giovanni myself that it would be stupid to try to invade Hoenn until we are completely established here, and one of the sides had been sufficiently crushed by the other. He disagrees though- feels that the lack of stability caused by the civil war would be an advantage, and plans on sending a small brigade to scope things out in preparation. And then he sent me to this god forsaken town to straighten things up. As if it is a punishment for stating what I imagine to be a likely truth to him, in the prescence of the other admins.

Oh, Giovanni... he who first had the vision, who ultimately led us all towards this glorious reign which we are now living in. He can speak of respect, loyalty to the cause, and trust in one another. According to him, it is these things that have brought Team Rocket to where it is today. He can talk the talk, and has won the hearts of many of his followers as a result. But there are those of us who have seen both sides of this man. While he can put on a demeanour of patience, understanding, and serenity, there are those who see the other facets. His unbridled temper, fueled by his headfast determination, stubborness, and inability to accept defeat. The smooth-talking, oil-slicked hair business man who can sway the most diligent and opposing figures to his side. His cold, calculating mind which allows him corner his opponents and crush them. And his pride, his own sense of loyalty to this group as its leader, and that if there is any doubt as to the dedication of anyone to him, they are a risk, a threat, which must be erased before that doubt breeds in the hearts of the masses.

All manner of low lifes had joined in order to partake in stealing, raping, and all manner of vile, despicable behavior under the wing of this criminal organisation. Giovanni knows it, and whenever he finds another one of the filth have infiltrated his ranks, he has them disposed of. But what blinds him is that there are those of higher rank who might not be all so loyal to him. Those who would seek to let him rise up to the highest, and then have him fall into the abyss of no return. There are some who feel that his methods are impractical, risky, and too much resembling that of the old days. That his time as a leader should be coming to a conclusion, and that someone else should lead this empire to full greatness. I know what I know, and that those who oppose Giovanni are clever fools. They may be right in that his ways can be unorthodox, and that his temper and pride may be his fatal flaw. But he is, undoubtably, a great leader. And there are those who lie in wait, watching for those who plot in the safety of darkness to strike, and then make a preemptive blow to the threat.

I sigh as I finish the report, including my signature at the bottom, in a messy scrawl _Harold Grayson_. Carefully sliding it into a manila folder and stamping it sealed, I call over one of the grunts wandering aimlessly about. He shuffles over, avoiding eye contact. "Take this to administrative envoye, and have them send this via messanger bird to Saffron." "Yes, Sir." the grunt cries, taking the envelope from my hand, careful not to touch my skin, and gives me a quick salute before walking away. I casually note that as usual, he prefers to stare at his feet instead of myself, and even during the salute, navigates his gaze just beyond my shoulder. I have vaguely grown accustomed to this behavior- they fear me, not solely for my imposing physique, but my reputation as a strict admin. They are wise to fear me. For I am not one to be messed with.

As if on its on accord, my right hand reaches up to touch the deep scar across my cheek, an old wound which refuses to heal. Although the fight in which I received my mark was not all that long ago, it feels as though eons have passed since that day. And while much has changed since that first encounter of a unfamiliarly strange quality, the memories still plague me. For through the incessant chattering of the computers and keyboards and opening doors, I can almost imagine hearing that voice taunting me. When I turn around the street corner, I can see the gun pointed to my chest, finger hesistantly lying on the trigger. And then it points away, and the voice returns to mock me. It claims I have grown docile under my 'master', that I will not be so lucky the second time around when we meet again. I quietly smirk in response to the voice, for I know it is an illusion. And when the owner of that voice and I meet again, things shall have changed. She has made her mark- now it is my time to make mine.

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Well, that's Chapter Two. Introduction of a few characters, the crossing of paths, etc. I hope it was alright- let me know what you think.

I shall try to get Chapter Three done before the weekend (I'm going away for a music thing), so hopefully the plot shall thicken. Until then,

clarinetti


	5. Chapter 3 Multiple Facets

Hello, lovely readers,

Just a quick thank you for all your reviews thus far, it is much appreciated. And in regards to the characters narrating, I shall from now on add the point of view. And for those confused on who was speaking in part 3 of the second chapter, that was Harold Grayson.

Anyways, onto Chapter 3!

Note: Just to clear up any ambiguity, we're going to list off all the things here I don't own;

1) The world of Pokemon

2) The Nintendo Universe

3) Gamefreak

4) Fiji (Well, at least not yet...)

5) Multiple OCs (Ex. Jack Lazarus, Ruby and Tyson Sinclair, James Westland, Magneta Eastridge, Harold Grayson, Fate Cross, etc etc.)

You get the picture, yes? Splendid, now we may commence.

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Chapter 3- Multiple Facets

Lana Carlin POV

"We're being reassigned?! What for?!" I demand hotly, slamming my fist into the desk as if to emphasize the point. Normally I am the level-headed one, the quiet one who plans things out and leads my men to follow the job description. But to be reassigned from Fuschia, now, to some tiny outpost outside of Cerulean? I frown, furrowing my brow in disdain, but of course, the person on the other side of the phone can't see that. "Fuschia is presently under control, and support teams are being sent from Celadon to assist in both Fuschia and the Seafoam Islands. However, it is felt that some disturbance is occuring near the Cape, possible rebel acitivity. Your squad is to search it out, and verify that it is a dead zone." the voice on the other end of the line cooly states. The voice is vaguely familiar enough, distinctly female, but I myself take little note of such things. "Why not send a squad from Cerulean to deal with it? They'd make much quicker process than my team of scouting the surrounding areas." "That is not in my authority to respond to your questions, nor my requirement. I was given a message, and I have fufilled my purpose in sending it to you. This line is terminated. Good day." And with that the noise on the opposing side is reduced to static.

I snap the rickety old thing shut, and turn to the admin in training, whom I know as Thomas Burton, but whose real identity is Nathan Cox. He comes from Pewter Town, and before the uprising he joined Team Rocket and assisted in the takeover of Mt. Moon. He then was sent in for official 'training' as he had not gone from the regime that most grunts receive before initiation- likely because he was already a talented trainer and the organisation amongst the Pewter faction was poor at the time, a trait that continues to this day (Presently the only area in more desperate need of reform besides Pewter Town is Lavender, which according to my sources is getting a full reform at the moment). After only three months of training, he was referred by his superiors to take on the more rigorous program of becoming an admin, which led to a month in in-class training in Saffron before being assigned to an admin to train under and gain experience before being fully promoted. Which means that at the moment, this boy is assessing my every move in hopes of learning the ropes.

"What does our source say?" he asks calmly, although I am sure that he can guess by my fuming expression. "We're moving out in the morning, to reevaluate the situation at Cerulean Cape. No ifs, ands, or buts about it either, so get to packing your stuff and be prepared to leave at five in the morning, sharp. If you are late, you shall lose two conduct marks. If you do not show up, I shall have you receive an undesirable awakening which has yet to be decided. Understood?" I reply firmly, and nodding of heads goes about, a few grins at the mention of the punishment. "Don't you smirk at me, Evans, or you Anderson- this is serious business." I growl, and they nod, the smiles on their faces only mildly toned down. "Apologies, Mam." "Good. You are all dismissed, with the exception of you, Burton." And with that, the eight troops, five men and three women, leave the space in which we were discussing our plans.

When they have all left, save for Burton, I slump back into uncomfortable metal chair, observing the surrounding without any real interest or attention to detail. Old concrete walls, windows smashed clean, a few shards of glass winking at me through the last of the crimson sunlight. There's a few chairs, a wobbling table with my notebook on it, a lampshade sitting abstactly on the cold linoleum, but that is about it for the furniture component of the room. This used to be a condo in one of Fuschia's many sky-toppling buildings looking over the water, a sparkling gem that still glistens with the once unremarkable beauty my younger eyes perceived it to be. But since the first invasion, the entire eastern portion of the city was bombed, left to meagre ruins built of stone and dust and ashes. With the more recent invasions, the western half of Fuschia has been neglected, the buildings having aged into a series of old, dilapidated structures, stripped of all the glory and magnificence they once possessed. It is here where we lie, far enough so not having to fear the chaos that occurs out by the harbour, but close enough to be deployed at the drop of a pin.

"Mam?" Burton asks, visibly uncomfortable with having to stir me from my process of thought. "I've told you a dozen times, you can call me Colline, or even Nathalie." I grumble in response to the intrusion, my disapproval of the formality seething through my tone. I sigh, focussing my gaze on the boy, who, despite the fact that I am four or so years his senior, easily stands a half foot taller than myself. "What do you think of the situation, in regards to the remaining rebel activity?" I ask him lazily, as if I was asking about the weather forecast for tomorrow. His dark eyes flicker in the gaze of my own light blue irses, and then ponders the question silently. When he speaks, the tone is confident and assertive in its stance."The remaining forces are small, but contain great strength. Should they conquer the Seafoam Islands, it is possible that they might place an attack on Pallet or Fuschia in an attempt to 'liberate' the respective areas of our influence." "Mhmmmmm..." is my sole response to his words, and I wait. After a hesitant moment of mild unease, he clears his throat, and continues. "I, if it is not too bold of me to say, the rebel's reaction to our presence is understandable." Raising my eyebrow slightly, his normally olive complexion pales with anxiety. "Well, it is just that, the way in which we have come to take over the places they once knew as home, and regime we have since instilled, could be considered rather strict. A curfew of nine o'clock every evening, required permission and documentation to even walk through the town districts, let alone outside their homes, the raids, it all seems rather, unnecessary. When I worked in File Management, there were countless claims of misuse of authority, theft, kidnapping, torture, rape, and various other violations of rights, human and pokemon alike. We were told to shred them all, without any investigation of the matter. I think...that if we are to establish our place here, we ought not do it in such a way as this. This is chaos."

The city is mute to his words, and I don't believe that it has heard them, for the gunfire in the distance continues, the heavy POM of another collapsing fragment of a building, the shouts and screams of humans and pokemon only grow louder. He looks nervous, as though fearing that I would report him for admitting his thoughts. For in the world of Giovanni, these ideals that Burton has mentioned are intolerable. According to Giovanni, the people of Kanto should be grateful for the protection and assistance Team Rocket is providing in order to rebuild society. Such is the mantra of the lower, narrow-minded individuals in this group- anything else would be subject to interrogation and punishment. If I wanted to, I could report it. But instead, I sigh again, shaking my head, and instead answer him with a question. "What is the difference between this chaos and society? In society, rape, theft, and all other variations of crime occur on an everyday basis, and for many of the victims, there is no consolation, no help, just the open wound from when the act took place, gaping and prone to infection. The only difference between society and chaos is that society seeks to hide such things from the eyes of the masses, while chaos allows it to do as it will."

"Furthermore," I continue, ignoring the blank expression on his face and instead straightening myself up from the previous slouching position. "The regime which we have presently placed on the towns has been done so for the purpose of negating any rebel activity to occur, and to protect the people. It is true, that the idea of revolution may come to mind as a result of our policies, and that there are innocent parties who are treated unfairly due to these policies but it is undoubtable that much of the rebellion has been quelched by these methods which have been employed. It is all for the greater good in which we do this. Do you know of the witchweed?" "Well, its a plant I presume?" "Hmm, yes, one of a more manipulative nature. Once the witchweed is germinated, the sprouts quickly send roots to the surroudiing area, until it encounters the roots of a larger plant- rice, sorghum, and other grassy plants for example. It then purposely inserts its own roots into those of the neighbouring plant so it may sap out all the water and nutrients of the host. The witchweed grows quickly, and once it has a viable host, proceeds to suck the life out of it, until the plant is choked to death. From there, the witchweed continues to expand its roots, and grows at a rapid pace, which allows it to release a large quantity of seeds to the surrounding area, furter infecting the surrounding plants. If left unchecked, one single plant can begin the process and wipe out a whole field of crops."

"Similarily, this is what the rebellion can do to us." I conclude, nodding to myself as if with conviction. "Do you understand what I am saying, Burton?" "Yes, but is it not we that are the witchweed? We are the ones suffocating them, the people, with our prison walls and rules. Is it not their right to try to defend themselves from us?!" he demands, and then freezes before his mouth opens again. "I apologize, I was out of place, and I do not know what got int-" "Save it. I'll be deducting four conduct marks for that statement, and depending on my mood after this god damn mission, I might even put that on my monthly report. If that happens, you won't be answering to me, but to the Head of Administration, so don't piss me off again. This meeting was solely to discuss the details of the assignment. Do you understand?" A choking sound is the closest thing I get to a 'yes', so I take it, and begin to speak in whispered tones so that no one beyond these walls can hear us. "Calm down, Burton. You're a smart kid, so don't get flustered. You just got to learn how to play the game- that's why you're here. You might not like the way things work here, but if you want to keep afloat, you'll pretend like you agree with it. Because the moment someone harsher than myself gets wind of something like that, its not just you who will disappear. It will be your mother, father, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, friends and acquantinces from work who disappear with you. So play the game by their rules. Do you understand?"

"Is that what happened to you, Ma-Colline?" The little warmth on my face vanishes as his words turn me stone cold, and my following words become clipped and tinged with anger. "No Burton, that's not what happened to me. But I've seen it happen, and once is bad enough. Now do you understand?" "...Yes, Colline." "Good. Now we have an early morning, so I suggest you sort out any business and get some rest. You are dismissed." And without another word, he gives me a look that tells me everything, and leaves the room, firmly shutting the steel door behind him. When the sound of his footsteps fade away, I sigh in relief. Exhausted, I slump back down, looking out on the city that I once vowed to defend against everything. This is what has become of my home. The police force was annihilated for what feels like an eternity ago, Officer Jenny ungraciously murdered, the remaining forces killed fighting Team Rocket. And now there's me, the rookie assigned as an undercover to figure out how the poaching and money laundering was working. Everyone else is gone, and now I'm here, a sheep in wolf's clothing, playing the part in order to stay alive. A part that has allowed me to thrived in playing it.

I sometimes wonder if I'm pretending to be the villain, or if I have become the villain. I commit the crimes, boss the grunts about, follow the same orders. I do things that the old me would have flinched and cringed at even thinking of. In the back of my mind, I privately lament and rage and scream for all the cruelty and injustice I see before me, yet do not make a move to change anything. And even if I could do something, what could I do? For how is one agent supposed to bring an entire crime syndicate down from the well guarded interior? Maybe I can do something, but I lie to myself because I have already become that which I most despise. Often the sense of guilt occurs in the pit of my chest at this notion. Throat tightening, I continue to gaze out at the sparkling shards of broken glass, now mirroring the ultramarine of the evening sky. I tug off the orange handkerchief on my neck, the one I received when I first arrived at the Police Institute. It was an award from a few of the not-so-new cops for having such passion in her work. On the inside of the fabric is the word 'Teamwork' scratched out in faded brown marker, nearly blending into the material. One of my teachers wrote that, because I always had preferred working on my own. The old retired officer told me that you can't just rely on yourself, and that the strength of a team exceeds the sum of its parts. That is what they told Lana Carlin, confident, loyal, justice seeking rookie in the Fuschia Police Department. The one who didn't worry about others, so long as the job got done.

But here, I return as Nathalie Colline, the stubborn Sub Admin of one of the most successful stealth teams in the region. The one who doesn't care how dirty her hands get as long as she and her team make it out alive. So who am I now, and who am I supposed to be? "I don't know anymore..." I murmur softly to myself, frowning. I have always been the headstrong determined one, the girl who wanted to make a change, to bring down the bad guys and stop crime in its tracks. I still plan to do that- whether or not I care for this team is irrelevant, or at least should be. I have a mission, with the blueprints and background information all laid out. I just need to find someone willing to help me. Because despite the views as I had as a child, when I was oh so independant, I can't do this alone. Not this time.

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Lucas Jackson POV

"Three potions, an antidote, and a repel. Is that everything?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then the total of that shall be 964. 78, in cash."

"What?! This is outrageous!" the middle aged woman shrieks in disdain, a sound which in my mind reminds me of treacherous furies flying over the Asphodel Fields. Perturbing lemon eyes spark in frustration, and I almost swear that from her vibrant violet locks streaked with gold, sparks are flying. Her hair has been styled in such a way that it spirals upwards in a demented beehive fashion, vaguely reminiscent to the hair of the bride of Frankenstein. Even her face has that of one similar to a bird- beaky nose, pursed lips, lacking any expression other than rage, it indeed suits her. She points a gloved finger to me, as if preparing to lecture me on store policy. "Is there a problem, Madame?" I ask her nonchalently, trying to remain straight faced throughout the process. "YES! Last week I bought the exact same things in the identical quantities, and it only costed me 932. 15! What's with the price hike- you trying to rip off me, buster?" "No Madame, it is not my doing as to the increase in price." "Then let me speak to your manager!" "The manager is not present today." "Then who can I talk to in order to file a complaint?!" "Well, I imagine the office of finance, or the government." "What does government have to do with this, buddy?!" "Well Madame, General Surge has recently increased to price of store bought goods due to the present shortage. Furthermore, an additional tax has now been added in order to assist in the war effort."

"War Effort?! Why I could KILL that money-hoarding, overzealous military cu*t! The only war effort going on around here is the war to find enough to eat and something decent to wear...psh, war effort...how can anyone call having a million troops guarding a wall a war effort?! And if he had all the things his way, he'd have us all starve so that it all went to his itsy-bitsy soldiers, which do nothing but guard the wall and prevent anyone from leaving! He thinks that he can just take over this town to do what he wants with it. This is a god-damn democracy, hear me?! I'm not paying some tax for that f**king tyrant to just, OHHHH I HATE HIM! AAAAAIIIIIIE-" "Madame?" "WHAT?!" "Under the Pokemart Rules and Restrictions, Section 6 Article 2, Clause 14, Sub-clause 8, I must escort you out of the building as you are disturbing the other customers." I murmur quietly, flicking my eyes away as her penetrating gaze harrasses me.

"OH, I APOLOGIZE for having disturbed the customers, MR. PAIN IN THE *SS! No need to escort ME, SIR, I understand when MY presence is NOT WANTED. Good day!" The woman replies in an arrogant tone, emphasizing her words in a shouting voice every once in a while. With that she slightly tilts her head upwards, as though having smelt an undesirable odour, drops all the things in her hands onto the table, and praddles out of the store, obnoxious bubblegum pink heels clicking against the linoleum, a Proud looking Snubull on her heels. I vaguely note the oversized, frilly polka-dot bows, both on the poor pokemon's collar and the womans equally disgusting pink dress. And then, like a malvolent spirit after a particulierly painful exorcism, she departs. The few remaining customers gaze at the door from which the ill-intending being first came from, as though cautious of its return. After a few moments of blissful peace and silence, the customers continue browsing through the wares, and all is restored to how it was before. With a sigh of contempt, I pick up the products which she left behind, being especially careful with the glass potion bottles. Why the manufacteur's continue to sell the potions in glass bottles is beyond me- for All other potions, status treatments or enhancements, and all other merchandise of this variety are now kept in plastic containers. Oh well, not my place to comment.

In a methodical manner, I carefully put all the respective items back in their place, and then continue to man the cashier. Being the only worker on duty today was not the ideal condition, but I really don't care. My manager, Marc, knows that I won't do anything stupid while at work, and that I won't complain about taking on a full shift on my own. Because the moment I counteract my usefulness with any troubles I cause, he might just slip in a word to one of the many patrolling officiers that I was an illegal refugee, back when Vermillion, or I should rather say General Surge, refused asylum to any people not already resident to the city. At the present I would be considered in safe grounds- I have already applied and received my status as refugee. But if it was known that I was here two months before that whole process begin, questions would be asked, and I would likely be captured by the Secret Police, the force that Surge privately funds to weed out any criminals inside his fort. Subject to interrogation, torture, and most likely long term emprisonment, I would be lucky to receive a quick death. So I don't complain, and I stay on Marc's good side. Everyone's happy.

The day continues, much like any other day for me. I sit by the counter, watching the clock as the hands move about, waiting to see if a customer needs my assistance. A few customers decide to buy a few products, all of them noting the increase in price, and when the store is almost at its closing hour, I quietly note that sales have, once again, decreased. It has been a quiet, lonesome sort of day, but I don't mind it- I am honestly not one who likes to talk much. Just as I am about to turn the door sign to 'CLOSED', the door jingles open, and a bright eyed child darts up to the counter. SQWILSH SQWILSH goes the slippery sneakers against the floor, and when the individual arrives before me, they raise a hand, indicating for me to wait as the person catches their breath after a clearly intense sprint. I look at the not quite yet preteen boy, a short one with spiky black hair, white jacket, blue vest, dark pants, and a faded baseball cap. He keeps panting for a moment, and then, as if by magic, seemingly perks up completely, and turns to face me.

"HEY, can I get some pokeballs?" the boy asks, dark eyes gleaming with unbridled excitement, and my eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You're a pokemon trainer." I state blandly, but the boy eagerly shakes his head. "YEP! I'm gonna be the next Pokemon Master!" he replies, determination etched on his face. Looking at him, I can see the shadow of myself when I too was a new trainer. Excited to start on my great journey, as this boy clearly is. However, I fear that he is forgetting a valuable point. "There's a war going on here." I state, and for a moment the light in his eyes fade, but then return with renewed faith. "Yea, but that still doesn't mean I can't become a Pokemon Master! My Sandshrew by my side, we're an unstoppable duo!" he explains to me, and I nod, lacking all the enthusiasm this child seems to be made of. I could comment on the fact that if the officiers have not heard that he's a pokemon trainer, and they catch wind of it, he'll be recruited before he can blink in response. Pokemon trainers have become a dying breed, you see. Most of them were wiped out during Team Rocket's initial invasion, when they tried to defend the cities. Many of them instantly formed and joined the Rebels, and when the Rebels were beaten up, so were they. It's a pity, to tell you the truth, because so many of those willing trainers were kids, and when they were massacred like the rest of the rebels, it would be their families who picked out their bodies and buried them. And the few trainers around these days are quickly recruited either into the rebel forces, Team Rocket's forces, or, if you are anywhere near Vermillion, into Surge's Army of brainwashed subordinates. So while the initial trainer's goal was to become the greatest trainer of them all, now they all are forced to partake in a war which has nothing to do with them.

But I won't tell this child this quite yet- he will learn it all too soon enough as it is.

"How many pokeballs would you like to buy?" I ask him, and he chirps in reply that he would like five pokeballs. I slowly walk to the vault where the pokeballs are kept, insert the seven digit code, and watch as the door opens, revealing shelves of shelves of boxes of pokeballs. The army has all the pokeballs they could scavenge stored so that no one can steal the goods anymore, but we still have the remaining stock from before the war- apparently Marc used to always buy more stock than he needed when they were on sale, since Pokeballs don't have an expiry date. I pull out five of the dusty red and white orbs, look back to make sure the boy isn't trying to steal any other goods, and then give the balls a quick shine. Gleaming in the faint fluorescent lighting, you would think they are brand new. I reseal the vault, and then place the pokeballs on the counter. "That'll be 1 013, in cash." And the kid trainer pulls out a tiny purse, stuffed with rolls of bills. He sees me eyeing the money and he frowns. "I didn't steal it, ok?! I won it from battling." he tells me, a frown on his face, and I turn away from him until he slaps the money onto the counter. Counting the money in a careful manner, I then insert it into the cashier and offer him a receipt. "No, thanks." says the boy, and then I put the pokeballs in a bag and hand it over to him.

"Thanks!" he calls out, and then proceeds to SQWILCH SQWILCH out to the door, placing his hand on the door handle as if to open it. Closing the cashier, I grimace as "HEY, MISTER!" come from the other side of the store, where the boy is staring at me with an oversized grin. "YOU'RE sort of like that, that guy I saw on TV when I was a kid- that trainer, ahhh, whatdidthey call 'im...aw, I forget his name, but YOU know him?!" he calls back, and I keep the surprise off my facial features as best I can. "...No...why do you ask?" I reply in a cautious monotone. "AWWW, no reason, but you sure act like him- he rarely spoke, but he was intense, like, INTENSE. There was this match, and he just poned Lorelei, as in The Lorelei from THE ELITE FOUR, with his Ampharos. But then he lost the last match with Lance, and then he just disappeared, but maybe, huh? Was it that guy, or the red head kid who poned Lorelei with an Ampharos, I dunnooo...AWW I'm LATE! I've got to meet this friend of mine for a battle and it's on the other side of town, that street the officers afford cause they're scared of the Pokemon Fan Club? YEA, SORRY MISTER, GOTTA GO!" And when that the boy darts out the store and into the pitch black night.

I flip the store sign to 'CLOSED', tally up the profit for the day, and lock the cash register. Slipping off my blue work apron and tugging on a thick navy blue jacket, I take my apron and hang it on the hook with all the others, the small plastic name tag saying "Lucas" on it. I get my bag from my locker, checking to make sure my pokeballs are still there, and with that darkness encompasses me as CLICK go the lights. The last thing I do before I leave is lock the front entrance, and then I too enter into the night.

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Eva Whitley POV

"Eva! Can you please help your grandma with Tiny please?" Grandpa calls out from the field, a wheelbarrow of pokemon food in his hands as he rolls it to the pens, where we keep the pokemon who like to roam about in the open grass. "Yes, Gramps, I'll do that now." I call back from my bedroom window, throwing my long blonde hair into a messy ponytail as I descend the flight of stairs and into the living room. Strolling past the small, cramped space where a variety of pokemon are sitting on the couch, I slip through the back door, alarming a pair of Pidgey into flight, and then enter the large, wooden barn where many pokemon like to sleep at night. The air here smells of hay, dirt, and wild things, clouds of dust floating about while the early morning tendrils of sunlight slip through the windows. There is Granny, a tall, sagelike woman even at this early hour. Her skin is a crinkled brown paper bag, a few liver spots flecking it here and there, and her sweeping pewter grey hair tied back into a braided bun. The clothes aren't exactly fancy- a long white dress with a brown apron and old leather shoes, but she still looks very much alive and active. She turns to the CREAK of the barn door, her hazel eyes lighting up when she catches sight of me, whilst my turquoise orbs widen at the sight before me. And I groan. "Tinnnyyyyyyy..."

There is Tiny, the Caterpie who has been living with us for nearly a year now. Some time ago, a rather irresponsible trainer just left him here one day, forking us a mound of money and telling us to contact her if he ever evolved. And never has she come back to check on him, nor contacted us to ask how he is doing. And as a result of this dreadful neglect, we've somewhat adopted him into the family. Tiny is generally a cheerful, hard-working pokemon, but clearly at the moment he is not so, groaning as he struggles to squeeze out of the ten foot wide door to his pen. He is almost the size of an Arbok, and if he wanted to, he could simply crawl over the steel pen we have built especially for him. But every day he chooses to force himself through the door in and out of the pen, as though he himself is unbelieving in how large he is. It makes sense that he may be confused- the average Caterpie is just under two or so feet in length, and with the antennae reach a maximal height of eighteen inches. Tiny is about eleven feet and five inches long, and at his full height can slightly exceed six feet.

"CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CAAATER CAATER!" He roars in a rumbling voice that contrasts the usual high pitched tones of the Caterpie cry. Granny is calling to im, trying to appease him from causing an uproar, and the great bug-pokemon groans again, and then collapses on the floor. "Aww, Tiny, it's ok, don't be upset, look, look who it is. It's Eva, Tiny!" she calls to him in a loud voice, pointing and waving as if to get his attention. The creatures massive yellow and black eyes turn to face me, pupils dialating slightly, and then he attempts to push through the gate again, to no avail. "Hey, Tiny! Stop! Naomi's going to get you out of here, ok? Just calm down." I tell him, pulling out my pokemon and throwing it to the ground. In a burst of light, a great fox-like creature appears, its multiple tails twisting and swirling about with flames while heat seemingly emits from its cream coloured fur. It opens its eyes to reveal crimson jewels staring back at me. "Hey, girl, how are you?" I ask affectionately, taking a step towards her and rubbing her fur around the ears in greeting. She submits to the gesture, bowing her head slightly before then turning to the giant in the room, giving me a quizzical look. "We need to get him out, without hurting him. Can you do that?" I ask her, and she simply nods her heads and walks towards the metal bars.

Quickly, the Ninetales bites through the metal bars of the doors, being cautious where the gates were particulierly close to the Caterpie's body. If this had happened a few months ago, Naomi wouldn't give it a second thought, but like me, Tiny has grown on her, to the point where she'd fight to the death to protect that old softie. Because despite the fact that he may look rather menacing, and that he could easily squish a car by walking on it, he wouldn't hurt a Magikarp, and prefers to just peacefully wander about, eating the branches of fruit trees and the piles of pokemon food Gramps feeds him. Finally, after 10 minutes of chewing through the surrounding bars, Tiny hesitantly steps out of his pen, and crawl out of the barn. "Ohh, thank you Eva, and thank you Naomi!" Granny says, smiling a crinkled grin and hugs me, looking at Naomi, and ruffling the fur around her ears. Naomi takes the petting while rolling her eyes- she doesn't like anyone to touch her but myself- and after a moment she backs away from Granny. "Alright, Alright, I get it. Eva honey, how did you sleep? Did Grandpa wake you up too early, because you look tired." she coos, concern etched onto her face as she attentively watches me. "Ah, no Granny, its fine, just another late night at work." "Oh, Eva, you work so hard all the time, I hate that you're working all day and all night. I wish, that you'd just quit that place. Please quit that job? Maybe then you could sleep, and then you could get a bit more time to yourself and have some fun." she says, and hugs me tightly.

"Aww, don't worry about it, work is going fine, there's just alot to do." I reply, trying to coax her into a better mood, but the frown on her aging face only lightens up mildly. "Hmmph, they've got you working all the time. And then they keep trying to get you to transfer to Celadon or Saffron, but that's crazy! If it's dangerous here, who knows how risky it would be to work over there? Those crooks, they just do whatever they want, and who knows what could happen to you out there?!" "Granny, calm down, ok? I already told them that I'm not transferring anywhere. It shall all be ok, alright? Don't worry Granny." I tell her in a soothing voice, something she used to do when I was a child. She sighs, and then shakes her head. "Ah, you're right, I'm just stressing bout things that don't need to be thought of. And I can't tell you what to do; after all, you're an adult now. You've got to figure out whats best for you, Eva. Just, no matter what Grandpa and I say, do what you think is best, ok?" "Yes, Granny." "OK, enough of this mopey stuff, we've got some work to do! Eva, pleas go help your Grandpa with the rest of the pokemon, and I'll get an early breakfast going, ok?" "Ok, Thanks Granny." I tell her, and with that she leaves the barn, and I turn to stare at Naomi, who has a bemused expression on her face.

"Don't give me that look, please. I already feel bad enough as it is." I mutter to her, pulling a folded up black hat from my coat pocket, thumbs outlining the edges of the bold 'R' on the top of the beret. I'd almost considered telling them now, or at least soon, but I know deep in my heart that I was never going to tell them, that it was just to humour and sate my own concern. If they knew, how I've betrayed the trust and love that they've always given me, I don't know what I would do. And Granny just said so herself, that I've got to do what is best for me. This is what's best for me right now. What they do not know will not hurt them. I won't let anything hurt them.

I'll have to tell them tonight before dinner, that I'm going away for a few days with some friends from work to a conference of sorts. Of course, I am leaving out that this also involves aiding a stealth team from Fuschia in scouting the Cape again. Which is stupid, since we've searched the bloody Cape every month for the past six months, and after time we do, we find nothing- that's why it is a dead zone. Why would it make a difference if some out of town stealth team comes to help? Hmph, but the orders are orders, and I received mine already last night, I think to myself, recalling the one way conversation between myself and the other girl on the line.

_"In four days, a stealth team shall be arriving in Cerulean from Fuschia, a squad headed by Nathalie Colline. You shall be in charge of helping them scout out Cerulean Cape in order to evaluate its current status... The mission shall take three days, two nights. We shall contact you when they arrive. This line is terminated."_

BING BING BING

"Damn-it." I mutter to myself as my hands deftly search my pockets for the radio phone, and then quickly pops it open. "What?!" I quietly hiss to the speaker. "Phew, aren't you in a bad mood this morning, eh, Evey?" "Shut it Dawes, now tell me while you're calling, I'm working." Dawes cackles into the phone with malicious glee. "Ah, don't be such a bitch, Evey. I'm just letting you know that you've got plans this evening- dinner with Snoopy to figure out what's going on, taking a four man team to a house party with some rebels, and then after drinks you can go visit Billy boy and ask him about that rumour we've been hearing. So make sure to clean your gun, pick a pretty dress, and play nice, ok?" "Hmmmph, how about you go send someone else to Snoopy, and then you and I can have the dinner ourselves?" I ask in a whisper, and the man on the other end giggles as though I was tickling him. "Hah, I'll send someone else then, but I'll pass on the dinner- I've learned my lesson from last time." "Ohhh, you didn't have fun? I sure did." I coo in a seductive tone, mentally noting with disgust that Dawes may be ejaculating himself at the memory as we speak. I hate to play this game, but if it gets me what I want, I'll play it, and I'll use all my cards."Not until you tried to kill me when I said I wouldn't recommend you for a promotion." "Aww, you still mad about that?" "Get back to work Evey- you're sexy as f**k, but I'd rather rot in hell than go to dinner with you again- at least I can compromise with Satan." And with that the line goes dead, I shut the phone, and start lugging a bag of pokemon food to the field where Gramps is, Naomi close on my heels.

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Alrighty then, so this concludes Chapter 3. I know it got to be wordy, but its just kind of how it turned out, hope its ok. Oh, and for all the Lt. Surge bashing, my apologies- it's just too tempting sometimes...Take care, and have a great weekend,

clarinetti


End file.
